


In need of a distraction

by Vault_Emblem



Series: Reynauld/Dismas/Tardif Fics [2]
Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, rip Reynauld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27211315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_Emblem/pseuds/Vault_Emblem
Summary: Dismas is away for an expedition and it's eating Reynauld up inside. He needs to find a distraction.Remembering what he's been told during a... salacious encounter, he decides to seek the only person who can help ease his worries.
Relationships: Bounty Hunter/Crusader (Darkest Dungeon), implied Bounty Hunter/Highwayman/Crusader
Series: Reynauld/Dismas/Tardif Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986550
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	In need of a distraction

**Author's Note:**

> I finally did it! I had a lot of fun writing this, and tbh I have to admit that I've come to ship these two even without Dismas.  
> Might write more about this series because I enjoy it so much.

Reynauld shouldn’t be worried. Dismas is an experienced adventurer, and besides if he’d known that Reynauld was worried about him to the point of losing sleep at night, he’d be laughing his ass off at him.

Still, he can’t be losing his sanity like this, especially considering that he has no idea when Dismas will be back, which means that he could be back tomorrow or ever after another week.

He tried spending time at the abbey, praying for his safety, and he’s even visited the tavern in the hopes that, if the Light couldn’t help him, maybe the alcohol could. There was a time when he would’ve never entertained such thoughts, but it’s impossible to keep your faith entirely when you’ve spent enough time in the Hamlet.

He needs a distraction that will actually work, and he might have an idea.

It’s not hard to find Tardif, who’s sulking at the tavern alone, nursing a now empty drink.

He doesn’t say anything, but he does reserve him a grunt of acknowledgement, which is more than most people could hope for. Reynauld isn’t most people.

He should speak, but now that he’s so close to obtain what he wants, what he needs… he hesitates.

After all, he’s basing all this on conjectures. Despite what he said during their last encounter, it may be that he wants nothing to do with him if Dismas is not involved. For all he knows, the one he reserved to him after they were done was just dirty talk.

The way he’s standing there is outward stupid, but he can’t even fleet the premise. It’s like he’s frozen in place. It doesn’t help that, without his helmet on, he feels naked, without his usual protection.

This is a dumb idea…

“You wanted something?”

Tardif’s voice shakes Reynauld from his inner thoughts. Right.

“Well, I…” Since he’s taken the trouble to get there and approach him in the first place, he might as well go for it, right? Worst case scenario, Tardif will tell him to fuck off. “I was wondering if I could speak with you.”

“You already are,” Tardif observes, sounding already bored with this conversation.

“I meant _in private_.”

Something about Reynauld’s tone must’ve pointed Tardif to the right direction, because he’s suddenly very interested in this. He can swear by his body language that he’s smirking under his helmet - not being able to see him is infuriating.

“Alright,” and he gets up, “This way.”

This time, Tardif takes Reynauld to his room, which is where he and Dismas used to get down to business before Reynauld’s involvement.

It’s impressive how taller than Reynauld Tardif is, despite the fact that Reynauld is no small man himself. The things they could do…

They have just gotten inside and he’s already fantasizing. Maybe this wasn’t that bad of an idea after all. He certainly understands how Dismas feels now, since he’s the shortest of the three; he has the feeling that if he tried to talk about it with him, they could end up having a very interesting conversation.

More than anything, Reynauld is glad that he had foregone his armor before heading to the tavern, so they have one less thing to worry about - it’s something he’d never get rid of during battle, but under normal circumstances it can be such a bother to get out of.

He looks around the room and he finds it not that different from his and Dismas’, except that Tardif doesn’t share with anyone, which means that his belongings are scattered a bit everywhere. There isn’t much, however, mostly weapons and tools to keep them sharp, a replacement helmet, and a lot of paper scrolls; Reynauld can’t see exactly what’s written on them but he’s willing to bet that they’re all bounties - for a moment he wonders if Dismas is in there too. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised.

In the meantime, Tardif has lost his helmet, resting it beside the other one. He lets Reynauld get acquainted with the surroundings, but this peaceful calm is only temporary and they both know it.

It takes him barely a moment to pin Reynauld against the wall, not that the crusader was putting any resistance to begin with.

“Let me guess…”Tardif begins, “Dear Dismas is away and you’re not handling it well, aren’t you?”

You know? It’s a good thing that Tardif doesn’t speak that often, or else it would make Reynauld hot during very inappropriate moments when he should actually focus on much more important things.

He doesn’t trust his voice not to break if he speaks, so he simply nods. He could’ve lied, but if Tardif has figured him out already he would’ve known he wasn’t telling the truth.

Tardif hums. Now that he’s taken off his helmet Reynauld can observe him closer; he looks as rugged as ever, but despite the rough edges you could even say that he’s handsome.

He takes Reynauld’s chin in his hand, tilting his face up.

“And what do you want?”

“A distraction.”

“That’s it?” Reynauld can pick up Tardif’s amusement, but he still replies honestly.

“I… I need my mind off things.”

Tardif leans closer, whispering in his ear something that, hadn’t Reynauld lost any semblance of innocence already, would’ve made him blush.

“Don’t worry. After I’m done with you, you won’t even remember who Dismas is.”

They kiss, all teeth and hands over each other’s bodies. This is nothing like the kisses he’s shared with Dismas, which is good: Reynauld doesn’t need those now. What he needs is to distract himself, and he has to say that even just this kiss is doing miracles under this front: he’s already feeling all over the place, overwhelmed, and he can’t wait to see how things will proceed.

Tardif isn’t gentle in the way he handles him, gripping at his sides and forcing him to grind against his thigh. Reynauld can’t hold a weak whimper as he does so. Yes, this is exactly what he needs, he thinks, even more so when Tardif begins to attack his neck, leaving bite marks all over the place; he would expect someone like him to draw blood from such a thing, but he doesn’t, and actually he seems pretty content to just make them deep enough to last long, lavishing them with his tongue after the deed is done.

Useless to say, but he already feels painfully hard. Is this what Tardif wants? Make him come in his pants? For an old man like him it would feel humiliating, and yet there’s a part of him that is actually looking forward to this.

Tardif’s hand travel downwards, towards the edge of Reynauld’s tunic. As soon as his fingers close around the rugged fabric, he yanks it off of him, leaving his chest bare. This time he runs his hands over it weirdly gently, letting his fingers gently brush against his dark body hair, massage his pectorals, flicker against his nipples, which is something that makes Reynauld twitch.

No emotion transpires from his face as he does so, or better, only one emotion transpires: an intense hunger. It’s with that same hunger that Tardif leans closer, experimentally running his tongue over one of the pink buds, while he rolls the other one between his fingers. The sounds that he manages to pull out of Reynauld are sounds he didn’t even know he was capable of making. In his head he can’t help but to think about doing something, trying to reciprocate in some way, but all he manages to do is to hold onto his shoulders for dear life as he does everything he wants with his body.

When Tardif presses his thigh more insistently between his legs, Reynauld’s sure he won’t last long if he keeps going at it. He tries to warn him, but right as he opens his mouth to speak Tardif decides that it’is a good moment to actually close his teeth around his nipple, biting him, and all his words die in his throat, replaced by desperate moans.

He can feel his entire body tense as he comes; Tardif must feel it too because he’s clearly smirking against his chest, but Reynauld is too taken in his own pleasure to worry about that. What he does instead is keeping grinding against him, trying to make it last as long as he can, even when he feels twitchy, even when he feels oversensitive.

He thought that things would end there, but no: Tardif this time grabs him by the ass, hoisting him up and walking him to the bed. Reynauld can’t feel his impressive hardness against his spent cock, and that contact is enough to send a shiver down his spine. No, it’s not over. There’s room for more.

He gets thrown on the bed without many ceremonies, but as he’s about to complain about it - a little bit of gentleness would be appreciated - Tardif kisses him, successfully shutting down any kind of complaint. It’s during this kiss that he begins to undress himself, and as soon as he can Reynauld begins to run his hands over his body, finally being able to experience the contact of skin against skin.

He explores the vast expanse of his back, and he doesn’t miss the way Tardif shudders when he sinks his nails against his skin. He should’ve known he’d like it.

Even with all these distractions, it’s hard to forget the erection pressed against the side of his leg, so Reynauld lowers one hand towards it, experimentally giving it a tug. Tardif grunts in his mouth, and Reynauld takes it as a sign that he should keep going, which he does, wanting to return the favor.

It doesn’t take long before Tardif pulls away, however, cradling his face between his hands, giving special attention to his lips, brushing his thumbs against them. Reynauld shivers, sensing what he wants, but he still waits for him to say it.

“I think your pretty mouth should be put to good use,” he growls, and Reynauld feels his cock twitch in interest at those words. He nods then, more than willing to go along with it.

He kneels on all fours before Tardif’s spread legs, resting his hands on his thighs, feeling the strong muscles underneath them. He can’t deny the small surge of panic that he feels when his eyes fall on Tardif’s cock; it’s not the first time he’s seen it, but this is definitely the first time he actually pays attention to it, since usually there would be Dismas between them taking both their attention - he doesn’t like to be ignored, the little scamp.

It’s _big_ , very big. How does Dismas manage to get that inside him and live to tell the tale?

Suddenly, he’s yanked by the hair closer, until he’s face to face with Tardif’s cock; he clearly doesn’t appreciate his stalling. Well, it’s not like Reynauld can pull back now, can’t he?

He begins slow, licking from the base to the tip, swirling his tongue against the slit. Even if Tardif’s letting him do as he pleases, he still keeps his hand tangled in his hair, a silent reminder that he won’t hesitate to push him further if he takes too long.

With that in mind, he still takes his time, going back to base, holding the shaft with one hand as he lightly sucks. From Tardif’s groan he gets that he likes it. He keeps going like that, experimenting and seeing where and when he should push, but eventually his patience runs out, and so does Tardif’s, if Reynauld’s interpreting the way he tightens his hold on his hair correctly.

He spreads his lips over the tip, welcoming that thick cock inside his mouth. It’s a far stretch, but slowly he manages to take more and more.

He gets half the way when he stops, unable to take more. He remembers how easily Dismas has taken him in his mouth the first time they all three got together and he wonders how he managed; he supposes it’s a matter of experience. At least he has his hand to help him, and he closes one fist around what he doesn’t manage to reach as he begins to bob his head up and down slowly, testing the waters and his resistance.

His jaw’s already beginning to hurt for the effort, but Reynauld tries to ignore it in favor of focusing on doing a good job. As he picks up the pace, whatever he lacks in experience, he makes up for it in enthusiasm.

Judging by Tardif’s low moans, he must be doing things right. This only doubles Reynauld’s will, and he keeps going, even trying to take a bit more than before, now feeling more confident in himself and his capabilities.

Slowly but surely, he will take him in his entirety…

His thoughts are interrupted when Tardif’s hand tightens even more around his air, keeping Reynauld still. What is he trying to do? The answer couldn’t come fast enough, as Tardif puts his other hand on his head, using it as leverage to thrust his hips up, successfully shoving the entirety of his dick in Reynauld’s mouth.

He gargles, taken off guard, and he almost gags. He’s so focused on making sure that it doesn’t happen that he can’t spare any energy to try and pull away from Tardif’s voracious assault. There’s a part of him, a part that he didn’t know he had, that thrives at this abuse, and even as tears begin to gather at the corner of his eyes, Reynauld only wants him to keep going. His cock twitch in interest as his throat keeps getting abused; he can’t believe he’s getting hard from having Tardif fuck his mouth, but he soon gets lost in the sensation and any coherent thought vanish from his mouth. Isn’t this what he came here for, after all?

When Tardif stops, it happens too soon.

Reynauld coughs as he pulls away, finally able to take a nice, deep breath. His throat feels sore, more sore than it ever felt, and his entire body feels like it’s in flames, but Reynauld has never been better.

He looks up at Tardif, questioningly. Why did he stop? Wasn’t Reynauld not enough to make him come?

Tardif seems to understand what he wants to convey because he tells Reynauld:

“Not yet.”

Reynauld doesn’t have the time to ask him what he means, when he finds himself lying down on his back, Tardif already situated between his legs. O-oh…

He’s back at nipping at his neck, and Reynauld leans back with his head, exposing himself to the assault. Tardif’s hands have begun to massage his lower back, firmly grasping his buttcheeks; Reynauld leans into the touch, moving his hips along with him; they both shiver when he slides his cock against his, and they soon settle into a rhythm, rutting against each other.

Reynauld is so taken by this that he notices that Tardif has taken a vial of oil only when he feels his wet fingers pressing against his entrance, not bothering with any kind of preliminary as the bounty hunter sticks one inside of him. Reynauld grunts at the sensation; this isn’t something he’s accustomed to.

“Relax,” Tardif says, as if that helps. He understands immediately the error of his ways, and instead of telling him again, he begins to distract him by biting new marks on his skin. There’s the wilder part of him that wants these marks to last, that wants them to be seen by Dismas, when - when and not if - he comes back. How would he react in front of the proof of what they have done in his absence? Tardif is _dying_ to know.

Thinking about it, it’s not such a bad idea: knowing him, he’d hate being forced to watch while he can’t participate in anything.

Yes, that’s something they should try one day or another, but for now Tardif has other business to attend to…

He pushes a second finger inside Reynauld, and he notices that it slides in easier than the first one; he’s loosening up. He’s being meticulous in the way he’s stretching him open, making sure that he’s ready to take him, but Reynauld doesn’t seem to appreciate this sudden slowing down.

“I thought I was promised a thorough fucking, not this,” he teases him in fact, a coy smirk on his lips. Oh, so that’s the game he wants to play?

No words leave Tardif’s mouth, but he does pull out his fingers. He feels a special kind of satisfaction at the way he catches Reynauld off guard when he takes a hold of his legs and folds him in two like it’s the easiest thing to do - his weight is considerable more than Dismas’ but still not much for him.

He takes just a moment to coat his cock in oil, barely holding in a relieved sigh when he touches himself, then he’s already pressing against Reynauld’s hole, breaching through.

He wants a thorough fucking? Tardif will give him that.

Reynauld can feel the burning stretch at every inch; it’s a lot, maybe more than he bargained for. They should’ve been more patient with the preparations, but he wanted more so bad! His mind is not going to get pleasantly clouded if he got properly prepared.

Once he’s fully seated inside him, Tardif is merciful enough to wait for him to get used to the intrusion before he starts moving, but that’s about it. As soon as he snaps his hips back, only to come rocking back at full force, Reynauld knows he’s done for. He throws his head back, unable to do anything if not take it and take it and take it.

He can hear the sound of the headboard slamming against the wall every time Tardif sinks in; it makes him wonder how much force he’s putting behind these movements, but it’s not like he doesn’t feel it at each thrust, so he knows. This is the last coherent thought he has.

He doesn’t bother holding back his voice anymore, no matter how hoarse it is - Tardif’s stunt from before has left a sign on his throat - weakly moaning every time Tardif brushes against a particularly sensitive spot inside him.

Every kind of thought about the place surrounding them, his companions, Dismas… they’ve all left his mind, replaced by an intense pleasure. It burns, it stretches, but it’s all so good, even better since Tardif seems to have no intention of slowing down.

How long have they been going? It’s hard to tell, not that either of them particularly cares. It’s just a curiosity.

Reynauld’s body is pleasantly sore, and now he’s sure glad that, even if the previous team comes back now, it would take a while to send someone else to an expedition, because it’ll certainly take him at least a couple of days to recover, and dying because he was fucked too good isn’t on Reynauld’s to-do list and it will never be.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he swears before he can stop himself, which makes Tardif smirk. He looks so smug at the idea that he just made the holy man swear, but whatever words of reprimand Reynauld was about to say die in his mouth when Tardif closes his fist around his cock, beginning to masturbate him at the same time as his thrusts.

He wants to see him crumble, that much is obvious, and he wants to do it before he himself comes. Reynauld bites at his neck as revenge, and also to muffle his voice. Not that he’d have qualms about being heard - well, maybe that depends on who would be hearing him - but his throat is getting very sore and if he busies himself with something that isn’t moaning or shouting, he might get to rest it even for a short while.

“You--” Tardif growls, pushing Reynauld down by the shoulders. If his pace was unforgiving before, now it’s even worse; Reynauld barely gets the time to breathe in at every push. How is supposed to walk after this?

When he comes, he barely has any energy left to moan. His voice is coarse, rough, exactly how Tardif wants it.

His body tenses, much like the previous time, for all the duration of the orgasm. It feels even better than the last one, way more intense, and Reynauld loses cognition of how much time passes; it feels like he’s been stuck in this heavenly place forever, but who knows how long it’s actually been.

He’d tell Tardif to stop, to do something, were he in better conditions, but as things are now he can only let him do as he pleases. Besides, it doesn’t take him long to come as well, filling Reynauld up with his cum and well, there’s a lot of it; Reynauld doesn’t think he’s ever felt this full. It’s not like he should’ve expected anything less coming from the bounty hunter.

It’s only after another couple of lazy thrusts that Tardif pulls away. Reynauld can already feel cum leaking on his ass, but he’s almost too weak to leave his eyes open so he doubts he’d be able to get up and get cleaned up even if he wants to.

No, he remains exactly where he is, tired but extremely satisfied. His brain is foggy, which is exactly the reason why he came here in the first place; he’s glad Tardif has agreed to do this for him, though he supposes that he also did it for himself - he looked like he was having a good time.

He almost falls asleep immediately if it wasn’t for Tardif moving him towards the center of the bed - and moving him quite gently if he can say. Reynauld opens his eyes then, gaze on Tardif; he can’t exactly get a good read on him, but he seems satisfied as well.

Not having the strength to talk, Reynauld just makes an interrogative sound, to which Tardif shrugs. On one hand, Reynauld is grateful for this indifference: it means that he can leave without feeling bad about it; they’ve attended to their own business without the need for more or anything else. At least in theory.

Maybe it’s because he’s tired, maybe there’s something else that he can’t quite understand that influences his decision, but he asks:

“Would you mind if I stayed?”

“If that’s what you want…” Tardif replies. It isn’t an enthusiastic yes, but it isn’t a no either. Reynauld will take it.

Tardif doesn’t stay on the bed for long and soon he gets up, moving outside Reynauld’s field of vision. By the rustling sound he assumes he’s getting cleaned up and dressed again.

He should do the same, he thinks, but his eyes have already closed - he couldn’t keep them open anymore - and he’s so, _so_ tired.

Since Tardif said he doesn’t mind, Reynauld would very much like to fall asleep, even if just for a little while, enough to gain enough energy to be able to move again. Yes, he’s going to do that.

When Tardif finishes dressing up, he turns towards the bed.

Reynauld has fallen asleep. He can’t help a slight smirk at the soft snores that leave his mouth; he’s slept in much worse places with much worse companions to be mad at that, he just finds it amusing.

… What is he supposed to do now?

When he told Reynauld that he didn’t mind him staying, he actually thought that Reynauld was going to leave anyway, but it’s clearly not the case.

It’s not that he’s never slept - as in literally sleep - in the same bed as someone else, he even does it with Dismas sometimes, but this is new. Well, not really, but he never had to share quarters with Reynauld, and besides isn’t it weird that he’s all dressed up while the other is still naked?

He shakes his head. What the hell, why is he having problems now?

He’s a grown man for fuck’s sake, he should deal with this like he deals with everything else already. It’s not like he’s doing something wrong.

Besides, he’s tired too, and he wouldn’t mind getting some rest. Reynauld has really made him work this time - not that he minds of course.

He lays down beside him, still keeping a bit of a distance between them, but at least the sense of discomfort from before has vanished, so that’s good. He closes his eyes then, and it doesn’t take much time before he falls asleep too, entirely satisfied.


End file.
